


The Ice is Thin (Come On Dive In)

by rusting_roses



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusting_roses/pseuds/rusting_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The transformation from Raven to Mystique might not be worth the cost. Character study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ice is Thin (Come On Dive In)

Raven knew the minute she stepped into Erik's bedroom that she was intentionally screwing Charles in every way except the one she wanted to.

By all rights, she should be trying to track Charles down this very second. It wouldn't matter what he was doing or to whom he was speaking: without having so much as a peek inside her mind, Charles would drop everything to come to her aid. Her oldest, her _only_ friend in so many ways, the one who knew her inside and out—Charles would not hesitate.

Charles would take her to his room, or to hers, or any of the many rooms that they'd taken for themselves years ago in the otherwise lonely and empty house. There, he'd tuck her hair behind her ear, and listen patiently, and offer to make tea she wouldn't drink, and murmur soothing, nonsensical words that were meant to ease her pain. It was how he'd behaved when they were young and they had suffered childish hurts like scraped knees and stupid arguments and breakups. Then, they'd curl up together and he'd read to her or watch a movie or just sit there, a silent, reassuring presence that lulled her to sleep.

Charles, who took her proffered heart as a bauble to keep in his pocket without returning his own in exchange. She'd thought herself satisfied, for time and again he'd returned to her, if for no other reason than that he couldn't bear to tell his lovers his secret any more than he could bear to hide it from them. It was only a matter of time before Charles saw her properly as his equal and other half, the one to whom he'd already given more of himself then he could ever share with some stranger picked up in a bar.

Charles, who had been everything to her since that night when he'd sated her hunger and thirst for companionship as much as for food.

Charles, beautiful, sweet, kind Charles whose naïve earnestness made Raven shake with rage and need.

The others, the 'children' as Charles was so fond of considering them, were no threat. They were no match for her innate understanding of Charles' good heart, even if they had shown any real interest. She liked them all, of course, liked not being the only freak, but she was the one Charles sought for confirmation that he was doing the right thing, the one he sought comfort and council from when frustrated.

Then Erik ruined everything.

Raven's fingers clenched tight in his bed sheets and they threatened to give beneath her grip. She eased them loose slowly, carefully, and inhaled sharply. Still, jealousy roiled and she couldn't stop herself from gripping the sheets again, tighter than before.

Erik, who used his powers with thoughtless and natural grace, who challenged Charles time and again, who knew the evil of the world and still— _still!_ —looked to Charles with absolute trust. Erik's wounds ached so fiercely that it was as though Charles couldn't help but turn to him. Not only that, but he somehow managed to match Charles' calm confidence with his own acerbic wit in training as in all other things and knew just how to inspire enough ire in his—their—students to compliment Charles' trust and incite action. Erik was the one who managed to tell them all that there was not a single thing wrong in being who they were with a directness that made them believe it despite themselves.

Erik, who made Charles gravitate to him without even speaking as though he were the sun. It was obviously something they barely thought of anymore, so used to the other's presence that they moved in concert instinctually and never doubted whether they needed to watch their back. Erik, who was just as quick and sharp as Charles himself and twice as worldly, bold, charismatic, wild and unrestrained—

Raven couldn't help but watch them with bitter jealousy and helpless desire.

This time when she unclenched her fists, she shifted slightly, smoothing away the wrinkles with shaking fingers.

Yet she couldn't hate Erik as much as she wished, not when he'd gazed at her with lazy, curious indolence as she'd trained in the weight room. Simmering desire had lurked there as well, deeply buried and wholly unconscious, but present nevertheless. He'd never glanced away or avoided her gaze either when she'd reverted to her true form and that was worth more than any words of comfort. Charles would look at her but not see truly see her, his eyes sliding over her blue skin and golden eyes as though they weren't there at all. She used to find that reassuring, but now she wanted to scream, " _Look_ at me!" until he saw her in all her glory.

Raven wondered idly, as she subtly changed her features—fuller breast, softer skin, longer legs—out of nervous reflex, if she would regret the vindictive desire that drove her. She was caught between wanting to shatter that bond between Erik and Charles while simultaneously desperate to find someone who would tell her that she was lovely in any form.

Still, she was shocked at how quickly Erik turned her down, eyes flickering over her form disinterestedly. She'd always modeled her human form to be appealing to everyone, and was accustomed to people stopping to watch as she passed, not this bored stare. Somehow, she couldn't believe it when Erik insisted on seeing the real her—somehow, despite his earlier words, she hadn't thought he'd do more then take in her willing body and then take _her_. It was one thing to say it as a well-placed, if well-meaning, jab, another to be confronted with actually being _wanted_ like that.

Erik's kiss was warm and pleased, and she briefly understood how Charles could desire this man, who was all sweetness and gentleness in his kisses and touches, reverent when his skin touched hers. Even now, bared to his desire and he to hers, he didn't force anything and her heart broke a little, a hot sigh against damp skin and ghostly touches doing more to erase Hank's words than Charles' steady presence ever could.

It didn't stop her from wishing he was Charles.

It seemed she was not the only one, either. When Erik finally thrust into her, he gasped, "Cha—" against her neck, a terrible prayer.

Raven didn't comment, though her chest squeezed tight for no reason she could pin-point; Charles' obliviousness was well-documented, though to be utterly blind to his own feelings was a new low, even for him. She supposed that it didn't matter, not really, because unlike her, if Erik gathered the courage to tell Charles, she'd lose everything.

Still, there was one thing, at least—she knew without asking that Erik held Charles as sacred as she did, in each of their heart of hearts.

She hated and loved them both and she was sickened by it all even as she twisted to pull him in deeper.

A few tears leaked out as she came, shuddering, and Erik did the same, this time saying nothing at all.

~*~

Raven let the moonlight paint her in shades of silver and sapphire even as her golden gaze turned nearly amber in the shadows of the room. Though she was naked, shame didn't touch her as she gazed out of the window into the world.

Like this, she felt darkly victorious, and ignored the terror that was warning her she might not like what she had won.

~*~

Charles had only cried in front of Raven once in her memory.

They were probably eleven or twelve at the time, and she honestly didn't recall why he started crying at all, except that he crept into her room and curled up against her, sobbing silently. She'd been horrified and frightened and hadn't known what to do. She had awkwardly patted his back and tried to calm him, but mostly just made a mess off things.

She wondered, sometimes, whether her disastrous reaction was the reason she never saw him crying again; sometimes his eyes would be suspiciously red or over-bright after he'd disappeared from her presence for a while, but he'd never quite bring himself to tears around her.

It made it doubly heart-rending, to see Charles weeping as Erik cradled him in his lap.

"I'm sorry, my friend, but we do not."

Charles' voice was heartbroken and caught slightly with the force of his tears, but it was also resolute.

 _Absolute._

Raven saw nothing but him, broken and fragile and wondered when he became so human, ephemeral as though all his strength left him when Erik did.

She didn't really listen to Erik's speech with more than half an ear, wanting to rush to Charles but held at bay by Erik's quietly dangerous gaze. Despite this, his offer tempted her, _more_ than tempted her, had a part of her utterly transfixed. Even now, though, even with Erik offering the world she has always dreamed of, even with him offering a chance to be Mystique proudly forever more—

Even now, she would bind herself irrevocably to Charles.

As she came to kneel next to her oldest and best friend, Charles looks up at her, face filled with pain and desperation and bone-deep tragedy. She didn't stop him when his presence, cool and silken, unmistakably and whole-heartedly gentle, waited at the edges of her mind for permission. She held nothing back, giving him everything she was. Even now, she couldn't help but trust him; he would not forcibly alter her decision any more than he would blame Erik or Moira for the way he has been left, prone and reliant on aid.

Still, she couldn't help it. "You promised you would never read my mind." A promise she'd wrenched out of him as a young girl, terrified of what Charles might glimpse in her mind. Charles, she didn't think, fully understood why his mutation in particular was one of the most terrifying ones she'd ever experienced.

"I know." Her hand was gentle on his brow. "I promised you a great many things, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

She stared at him almost blankly, almost unable to comprehend his words, almost ready to start crying herself for her beloved Charles and his agony—which she was going to willingly and knowingly compound.

Charles couldn't breathe without shuddering, couldn't so much as twitch without the air catching in his lungs, making every movement nearly impossible. Yet that was only the physical, and it was nothing compared to the betrayal of the two people whom he trusted and loved most in the world.

Mystique knew she was about to do it anyways.

She had to do this, had to do it for herself, for her life, for her future, for her sanity.

As he kissed her fingers, she begged silently, _Come with us. You have to see that we're doing the right thing. We're never going to be seen for what we are, only creatures from nightmares, unless we_ make _them accept us. They can't even begin to understand us, not really. So we need to take our equality, fight for it. Please, Charles. We will give you everything—anything—you want._

 _But nothing that I need,_ he countered, and his voice was a patient and warm rebuke.

She swallowed hard at that, blinking rapidly. She wanted to hit him and call him a sanctimonious, self-important ass. She wanted to turn his gift back on him and force him to admit that their gifts made them the greater species. She also wanted to let herself be pulled into his arms and pull his blind optimism over herself like a blanket. She wanted to believe the best of the world, but couldn't, not the way Charles was able to.

It was tearing her heart out, to leave this man. She wanted to whisk him away and return to the days when it was just the pair of them, nothing more complex than petty squabbles standing between them. This was big, this was so much more than big. This was impossible, insurmountable, irreparable.

She could not come back from this.

So instead she pressed her lips to his forehead in benediction and Charles gave her the mental equivalent from the mind trapped in his ruined body. She went to rise, and Charles threw out a mental hand to stop her for a breath, not even a full second. _Raven—_

 _It's Mystique now_ , she corrected inexorably, and was forced to suffer the peculiar and horrific sensation of someone else's heart shattering in her own chest.

All Charles murmured, however, was _Forgive me, Mystique. I will always love you._ She almost turned her head at that and she tried to shut him out in reflex, recoiling, but Charles didn't let her. _Protect him_ , he gasped, eyes overflowing, and he couldn't control the raw need, the shuddering agony and the despair from bleeding through. Charles couldn't elaborate on that, his mind escaping hers as though she'd burned him.

Mystique knew what Charles meant, though.

 _Protect his body_

 _Protect his mind_

 _Protect his heart._

 _Protect him from others._

 _Protect him from us._

 _Protect him from_ himself.

Mystique gave no sign of agreement, mentally or physically, but she and Charles both knew she would let herself be killed before Erik came to harm. It was the least she could do.

And still in the back of her mind, the terror lingered.

~*~

These days, no one but Mystique called him Erik and he called her Raven in return. It was one of the many things that bound them together.

The more important of these was still Charles.

Even now, for them both, his name, his words, his presence was a raw wound incapable of healing, just as Charles' legs never will.

They were pretty sure it was only fair.


End file.
